


Slam the Goddamn Door

by arekeytaketour, ry0kiku, vreemdleven



Series: Welcome to Watchtower [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Apartment AU, Everybody loves Dick, Food Court of Owls, GDI Uncle Creepy, Kents and Waynes being neighbors, M/M, Watchtower Apartments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arekeytaketour/pseuds/arekeytaketour, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ry0kiku/pseuds/ry0kiku, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vreemdleven/pseuds/vreemdleven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce was so done of (tall dark handsome dangerous) middle aged men come knocking to court his eldest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slam the Goddamn Door

**Author's Note:**

> All the characters belong to DC comics.

Despite considerable decline in financial stability, there were still many perks in being a private detective. Others counted on him (Selina Kyle came at least once every month for yet another missing cat case) and respected him (Barry Allen never failed to tell new students of how he found the culprit who dyed his trademark red-and-yellow schoolbus glowing green). But to Bruce Wayne, the biggest perk came in that his job allowed him to protect people he cared about.

And in this case, it's his twenty-two-year-old first ward, Dick Grayson, who was currently receiving unwanted affection from a creepy man fifteen years his senior.

"Bruce. What a surprise. I thought you were out of town for a concert."

"I gave the ticket, which mysteriously appeared in my doorstep, to Gordon. He deserved a holiday."

The man in front of his door shared 80% of his features with Bruce except for his sickeningly smug smirk.

"How noble of you. I didn't know you care about him that much."

"I didn't. And neither did you when you sent me the ticket to my favourite concert at the timing when Dick was home for the weekend."

Not even the bomb dropping wiped the confident smirk off Thomas Wayne Jr. face. “Aw. Is it that obvious?"

It took every ounce of control from the younger of the two not to call the police. "Even if it wasn't, those roses are enough of a hard evidence. Give it up, Thomas. You are not going to ruin Dick's well deserved weekend."

Thomas laughed heartily, waving the roses under Bruce’s nose. “Always such a negative thinker, brother. I'm not going to ruin Richard's weekend. All I plan to do is just giving him this bouquet and probably a kiss on the forehead to congratulate him for getting the top of his gymnastic class."

"You just validated my point. Now get the hell out, you dirty cradle robber."

 _And creepy persistent stalker_ , he added in his mind. 

"Bruce, Richard is twenty two. Let him make his own decisions." The smirk was fading now, but Bruce’s headache hadn’t.

"In case you haven't got it through you thick head the last time, Dick has made his decision to say 'no'."

"You don't know--"

"Since he's twelve."

Without waiting for a reply, Bruce slammed the door close. He rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off impending headache. He didn't know who to blame; Thomas for his creepy bordering paedophiliac tendency, or Dick for his equally creepy tendency to attract (tall dark handsome _dangerous_ ) middle aged men. Thomas was only one of few men who had come to Wayne's apartment to court Dick. Slade Wilson the debt collector, Tiger King the mechanic nextdoor, M the plumber, and even Raptor the entertainer at nearby Food Court of Owls had come seeking his company. Or his ass, as Wilson had shamelessly stated before Bruce slammed his apartment door to his face.

A knock on that very same door brought him back to reality. Bruce growled, turning and opening the door, preparing to lash at the most persistent stalker of them all.

Only to have his ire died in his throat as instead of Thomas' sickeningly smug expression, he came face to face with a kind face with gentle blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. The man smiled, so bright he might've gazed directly into the sun itself, while raising a sweet-smelling basket. Bruce stared at the man, and vaguely recognised him as the newly moved in nextdoor neighbour, Clark Kent. His eyebrows met. Kent may look kind and gentle, but he's so done of dealing with another addition of middle aged men trying to court his son.

He slammed the door.

 

.

.

 


End file.
